A Meeting
by Quintessence876
Summary: Another girl, same gorgeous Edward.
1. Chapter 1

I looked discreetly at the boy, eyeing his thoughtful smile, the type you give when you're confident but experiencing something new, his amazingly different topaz eyes, and blindingly white skin. His face seemed to be somewhat good-looking, like when you graze your eyes over a hallway full of people and you just look around without really focusing on a certain face. But now that I analyzed his seemingly normal features, I gasped. Loud. People in all directions turned around, their eyes excavating the room for a distraction from the deadly English paper being delivered by a classmate. I looked straight ahead, feigning an interest for the poems of Franz Wright. Unable to discover anything remotely interesting, everyone wistfully looked toward the front of the room, desperately looking out of the corner of their eyes for any sign of movement from behind them. The normal and seemingly boring new boy looked down at his paper, his long lashes covering his stunning eyes. He wore a navy blue collared shirt, long sleeve, though it was a sunny day. I gasped because right when I stared at him face for more than a second, I noticed his face more closely. He was…breathtaking. I couldn't move my eyes, as though my eyes were a magnet and only pointed toward him. He had angled cheekbones and sculpted lips of a roman god. Finally, when I tore away and was now silently breathing through my nose, I felt my back shiver, as though someone were looking at me.

I characteristically started to breathe unevenly, while staring at my twisting hands. I was so sure it was the gorgeous youth I had been staring at just seconds before. I casually looked over my shoulder, to ask Alee what she had done for her report right behind me. While my eyes turned toward her desk, and I twisted around, I looked up to see if I was right. For a division of a second, my eyes connected with his. My mouth opened in awe at the sight of his exquisite face. I stopped breathing, barely surviving from collapsing in the middle of the room. I looked down at Alee's desk and the historical evidence etched in it, from declarations of love from couples, to the typical and oh so hackneyed "Mallory was here, in 1987" messages, informing uninterested people of obscure facts about the former occupants who had sat at the desk. I had seen so much in those eyes…an inexplicable pain, an uncontrollable desire.

He was still gazing at me or probably through me. I felt I was going through an x-ray machine. I consciously put my left arm on the top of my chair, casually covering half my face. I peeked at him. He blinked and tore his gaze away from me when I placed my left elbow on the chair.

"What?!" I turned to look at Alee, who was trying to whisper as loud as she could to get my attention without screaming at the top of her lungs and giving to people around us something to busy themselves with, which had nothing to do with Franz Wright, Marissa's droning voice, and ceiling tiles.

"I asked, how's your report?" I replied. She looked at me strangely.

"It's about Lewis Carroll, and pathetically boring." She looked at me, again with a look of worry.

"Which you should very well know, seeing as you were the one you helped me on it." She said slowly, looking as though she were trying to figure out something.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Alee, just wanted to see how you did the report. I mean, how did you write it? Here's mine, and let's read each other's till it's our turn." I said, saving myself pathetically.

What was the guy's name? He came in to class like the rest of us, and was introduced, but I didn't catch his name. Mr. Wheeler told him to sit in the back, one row beside me and two seats behind mine. I stole another glance over my arm, which was still propped up so that (as far as I could tell) he couldn't see. I pretended to hold my paper up and looked sideways off the edge. He seemed to be in pain. His expression was of revolt. He looked in my direction again and glared. I cowered under his look. It was full of hate and revulsion. Yet I couldn't look away, like before. I felt and entranced and sick at the same time. I turned around; telling Alee her essay was great, and not really listening to her comment on my essay. I kept my head down the whole time.

Basically, this is not like me. I'm a very open person. At least I have been one since the beginning of this summer. I could feel my horribly familiar feelings of nauseating, embarrassment, and weakness returning just because of some boy. A quite good-looking one too, at that…Ugh! I shouldn't think like this. He didn't even like me. I shuddered as I remembered his look of distaste. No, not of distaste. His look had been of abhorrence and odium. Even so, I relaxed, getting drowsy from the nervous lull of a classmate's voice. I felt someone looking at me from another direction and curiously looked up. A blond Reminiscing the last time I met eyes with made me cringe and shut my own. Even with them shut, I could see his face, all hateful and wide-eyed. He still looked beautiful. I sighed at the image, wondering how someone looking so angry could look exceedingly gorgeous. Then, I heard someone cough. I frowned in at the disturbance, eyes still closed. That someone coughed again in annoyance. I opened my eyes, ready to pounce on the person who had interrupted my picturesque image.

Everyone was staring at me like I had forgotten to wear my shirt. Or, more simply, and less dramatically, not gotten up to recite my paper when Mr. Wheeler called my name repetitively for over a minute. Giving myself the mercy of blushing, I stood up from my desk, smoothing my skirt with one hand and holding the English paper in the other. My feet refused all my requests to move. I would have to crawl.

"We don't have time to stare at you. Though I know some people in this class who do have time for that sort of thing." Mr. Wheeler commented dryly. I felt embarrassment, and soon after, blood rushing to my face. Some of the class even sniggered to my surprise. I couldn't blame them; they were bored.

"You're usually very composed and collected. What's wrong?" he said, this time with a little more concern. The last thing I needed was sympathy. I preferred the cracks. I didn't want to show the boy I was intimidated. Nor did I want to deliver to the class a soap opera instead of an essay.

"I'm fine. Just really tired" It came out sounding okay. Except for the fact that my voice was an octave higher. I steadily walked toward the front of the room. I could feel everyone's eyes on my back. But only one pair of the twenty-three made my hands shake as I turned around to face them, keeping my eyes on the front of the room. I took a breath and read my paper. The more I read it, the calmer I felt. I started remembering how I had a life, and this insignificant boy had taken me from reality to my past life, with one look. What had I done to irritate or offend him? Stare? Maybe I would have to explain the term "hormones" to him.

I forgot the boy and read the report, pausing to explain how the prose of Mr. Poe was, how he viewed life every couple sentences and then started on his life history. At the end I was relieved and comforted by the fact that there was no pair of topaz eyes staring at me. I took a swift peek. And almost died. He was looking out the window, chair tilted slightly back with a type of elegance that I felt he alone could achieve. Everyone clapped politely, and I sat down. "Well, I'll have to admit, I was a bit afraid for a moment that you would faint from embarrassment, but I shouldn't bring that up right now. You did great! Just like I told you!" Alee exclaimed. I smiled at her accent, loving the lilting voice of hers. Alee Bridges was of British background and just moved here two years ago, in 8th grade. Back then, I was meek and too shy to talk to the new girl, who seemed quite withdrawn herself. Her dark brown hair and wide light green eyes that roved around the room made it seemed so. But about two minutes after class, she came up to me, sticking her hand in front of her, saying, "Hello. The name's Alee. What's yours?" From that moment, we became classroom buddies and sat next to each other in lunch. She was the closest thing I had to a best friend.

"Hey, I couldn't help but notice how troubled you looked when you asked about my paper. Mind, you haven't looked that anxious about an English assignment this early on in the year. What's wrong?" Alee commented, looking at me with caring eyes.

I hesitated, and noticed the teacher looking in the direction of Alee's carrying voice. I said out of the corner of my mouth, "Nothing."

Alee's eyes were still pleading. "Oh please! I know there's something wrong. And then when you were petrified about going up to read your report… Samara, tell me."

"Unless you want us in detention the first day, keep it down. Tell you later."

A couple more papers were read out loud, and the bell rang. With that, I picked up my bag exited the room with Alee down the perplexing hallways of the high school.

When we got to our next class, AP World History, we sat down next to each other, as usual. We were the first ones there. We talked about the summer, Alee supplying the conversation for her as well as me. How convenient. At least that's what I thought until... "Hey, Samara! Isn't that the new boy from our English class? Edward, I think his name was."


	2. Chapter 2

_II-_

_Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never will. _

I gave her a warning look, and heard my own heart throbbing in my chest. We had been talking for two whole minutes and no one had come in yet. He must have been there the whole time! I felt my cheeks get warm. Alee was still calm, brushing her fingers through her long reddish golden hair.

"What's wrong?" she asked. This was the third time I had been asked the question. I couldn't lie my way out. Not even to myself. Something was definitely wrong.

After a day of peeking at the elusive youth, I was ready to retire at my house. After my first two classes, he disappeared. He wasn't at lunch, though he should have been if he were in sophomore year.

Besides the usual mortification of having a limo pick me up, though it was ten fold worse in front of fellow students, I reached the house easily. Getting out of the car, it didn't seem like anyone had popped in for a visit. After checking every inch of the garage as a young child losing a colorful marble or precious doll, I left, depressed. In the beginning, I had mixed feelings. I wasn't excited that I cold throw parties every week. I never have been very excited at the thought of parties. Images I conjured up were teens obscenely dancing to loud music, hands everywhere, with alcohol adorning the place like decorations. But the good side in all of this was that I wouldn't be needled to death by my mother. My mother had a knack for interfering with my life until the point that she had to know how many boys were in each of my classes. As much as I pushed her and inquired about her curiosity, she shrugged off my pestering with a too-innocent shake of her head. She probably thought every guy would be dying to flirt with me every second of a class. Ha. Like I could twirl my hair and play along. But the joy of a little more freedom didn't hurt.

But after a while, the giddiness sort of faded. I started to feel lonely, in a huge house with several servants and a butler rushing about. Oh, and a hot tempered Italian cook who tried, and failed, to make me eat every meal, which I was not accustomed to. A limo didn't help solve anything. Even trying to sneak out failed, for there were a dozen security guards encircling the house like leering crocodiles, daring me to climb out my window and down the balcony. I was trapped.

Now, climbing the perpetual staircase, past a multitude of rooms on the left side, I counted till the 10th door, pausing Daniel's study. I peeked inside, hopefully. No one was there. Disheartened, I trailed into my room, ignoring the inviting canopy bed. I made a beeline for the balcony, placing my homework on the lounging chair and went downstairs to get myself a drink.

As I got my Raspberry-Lemon tea, two of the maids caught me in the process of running up the stairs, occasionally sprinting over several steps. "After doing thiz again and again, you thought zat we wouldn't see you, eh? Well, from now on, let us do our job and you do yours! By ringing ze bell! D'accord, mademoiselle?" one of them shot at me.

There was a button inside my room where a light switch would usually be that would buzz one of the maids to me. I just stood there, mumbling "Okay", though I had no intention of doing so. I wouldn't let them win. Then I continued running up the stairs.

When I finally got to my sanctuary, I called Alee.

"Hey, Alee here. If you're listening to this dismal recording, it means I am probably busy. Doing something fun like homework. Before I start ranting on why I'll let you guys leave a message."

I left a message and shut the phone, clueless on what to do. I started on doing homework, which seemed pretty easy. I guess it was because I was not occupied with anything and was putting my full attention and effort into it. An hour later, I was done. I thought of going outside, when the phone on my night table flashed on my right. It said _Maid's Quarters. _Did they think it would be a tiresome journey for me to come down the stairs?

"Miss, your equestrian teacher is here." I groaned, but complied.

After the dreadful lesson today, I went home, not bothering to knock on the door and wait in the freezing weather for the butler. I picked up my jacket without looking in the foyer to keep myself warm in the unusually cold weather. As I put it on, I shivered. The jacket was really cold from hanging in the hall. I walked out the door, ignoring the hot-tempered French maid, who had caught me a couple hours earlier, now calling my name from the foot of the stairs. Apparently, she wouldn't go any farther without the butler there. I walked on, feeling pleased that I finally did something wrong in the open, instead of falling to cloak-and-dagger. I buttoned the front of my hated Burberry jacket that every girl owned or at least wanted. In a sense it was a gift, whose sole purpose was to keep me hidden at school, since it doubled as camouflage.

I walked absentmindedly into the forest that bordered the right side of the manor. The ground in front of the stately chateau was inlaid with large black and green stones in a swirling pattern, and led out to a twisting road lined with small trees that ended with the highway. A quintessential garden bloomed on the manor's left. On the right, the way I was headed, lay the forest. I loved the wild, tangled mess of the forest, with its natural water sources, bubbling up in a nook of the woods, or racing down the side of a hill, in the form of a rapid stream.

I felt comforted by the dense and voluminous canopy of leaves and branches, like they were caring arms that wrapped me in a protected embrace out of harm's way. I didn't know how wide or how many acres the woodlands extended. Probably till the ocean. I just loved the feeling of openness while still enjoying the distant awning that covered the sky. The air was cool, but yet light and not very breezy. It was like the fresh breath of Mother Nature. There weren't that many inhabitants that came out during the day, so unfortunately I was not occupied mentally. I could picture the boy's eyes in my head. Instead of the topaz I was strongly attracted to, the same pair of eyes had dimmed in color, becoming a darker toffee color, almost threatening to turn the lightest shade of black. Their beauty wasn't marred though. They still seemed—

Suddenly, I stumbled, falling down a hill, with a dead tree. The tree wasn't harmed in any way by me, but I definitely earned some bruises for knocking into the once sturdy willow. I made a note to at least seem to separate reality from fantasy. I cursed at myself for not changing out of my boots and outfit from equestrian lessons. I had just threw the helmet on the floor of the manor and took off.

My fall suddenly stopped. I had wandered (okay, fell) into a new part of the seemingly never-ending forest. Before I could realize what happened, I stared up at the beauty of the new place. It looked similar, but more devastatingly beautiful, once I gave my undivided attention to it. To stare at it was an understatement. It was more like drinking the most pure water in the world, and never getting satisfied by one small taste.

I looked around greedily, devouring the beautiful site. There was something exceptionally scenic about the place, but I couldn't figure out what. It seemed pretty normal looking in the beginning. But now… I could only stare. I finally found one of the factors for its heartrending splendor. The sun. Not the normal one that glared down at me every morning through my window. This one was different. It shone through the curiously less dense forest in this part of the forest. It created an impressionist painting on the ground, with different shades of pale yellow, white, and light beige. The ground seemed to be strangely clear of leaves and grass, just flat earth. The place had a sort of shimmering touch, though there was nothing natural to cause it. There was an aura around the place; I felt a sort of reverence for it. I walked toward the center, limping slightly, to see where the light was coming from…Everything was a blur and slowly my vision receded to darkness. I was thrown over someone's shoulder. I felt an electric jolt through my bones, when something cold touched my face, murmuring something to low and fast for me to comprehend. A human. I tried opening my eyes, but I could get no more than a shadow. Then, the shadow was touching my neck, shocking life back into me, as though I were a failing heart patient.

I gasped for air, opening my eyes to look at the stranger. But there was no one. No one was touching me or around me, but I could still feel the cold electric shock administered to me by someone's cold hand. I put a hand on my neck anyways to see if someone actually had touched me. I felt a surprising breeze on my right, and caught the shadow of a silhouette returning to the forest. It took a couple seconds for me to realize that if it had a hand, it must be human.

But no human I knew of could travel over 80 mph and drop me on the floor into the mud outside of the forest in one minute. I blinked stupidly in the merciless sunshine. I glared at it while it leered back. The burning light scorched my face. I looked down, defeated. So I wouldn't be able to make it to the end of the forest today.

This shadow thing has made me amazed, mystified, and curious. I will definitely write a story or poem on it, I thought to myself, climbing the perpetual staircase of boredom to my room. I took a quick shower, and a couple minutes later, came out donning some 300 dollar jeans, now torn from use at the knees, with a tight-fitting lacy olive green top. I let my hair out; giving it the right to do whatever it wanted, though it wasn't as if it ever obeyed me any other time.

My room phone rang. It said _Dance Lessons in five minutes._ I moaned, slumping onto a pillow. While lacing up my converse, I thought about wishes. I wished for something to distract me or help cure my boredom but doing the tango for one hour straight wasn't my idea of treating monotony. Nor was it fun.


	3. Chapter 3

_III_

After horrible dance lessons, I practically flew to my only sanctuary in blood-red 6 inch stilettos my sneaker-disapproving instructors forced me to wear for dancing. If I didn't have blisters from the dancing I definitely would from rushing up these stairs. Indeed, when I made it to my haven, where I could wear whatever I wanted, I had a couple blisters on each toe after I gingerly took off the cursed shoes. I winced in the process, for I was unable to avoid pain. At least they didn't make me wear dresses _yet._ They probably were planning to, because they kept hinted that it would have been a lot easier to dance with a dress on, instead of jeans. I looked at the garnet pumps I had received from my dance teachers in hatred. I could see a huge Prada brand name embroidered into the sole.

I slowly got to my feet, staggering toward the closet door. I entered, passing a black and red love seat and black coffee table, taking yet another door that took you to my actual closet. What a waste of a tree, I thought to myself. I stuffed the shoes into the closet on the right. I entered the one on the left and picked out plaid pajama bottoms and a black tank. I tied my hair back, because I would still be up, recording and writing about my adventures today and didn't want to hack through a jungle of hair. I finally found my way out of the closet with difficulty and looked around my room. All though my mother wasn't really approving of my room, it wasn't appalling.

Outside, in my main space, I had a huge canopy bed, with pastel colored walls. I frequently changed from black to light colored walls depending on my mood. I had burgundy colored sheets at the moment, with a little black design on the pillows. I had a grandfather clock opposite my bed. Another small black clock hung on the wall above my computer, and a there was a compact black chair to match my desk. For hanging out and brainstorming, I had an enlarged dice-shaped seat, which would open and hold my notebooks and often my Apple Notebook, which was resting on my bed for the time being. A pitcher of water with cucumbers was placed fresh every morning on my left night table, along with a black vase full of jasmine, lilies, or roses, depending on the maid, day, or my room's look. A book is always a necessity for me and is often found on my other night table and is never dusty. On my computer desk, there are an assortment of abstract pictures, scrapbooks and such that I have made. Thin black and silver wrought-iron lamps and other light fixtures, crept up walls. An enormous book case also took up a corner of my room, the books _Harry Potter_, _Eragon_, _Artemis Fowl_, _The Count of Monte Crisco_, _Romeo and Juliet_, and books like _Sense and Sensibility _and _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen being some of my favorites.

My sports and recreational lessons had disappeared, now stowed away in the back of my mind, like the equipment I used in those classes stored easily in my vast closet. My room was as big as two classrooms. Black, red, silver and gold candles decked almost every table, as well as incense sticks on one of my shelves. Sitting on a music note-shaped chair that lay horizontal, I pulled out my notebook and started writing a short freestyle poem.

_As the cool breeze whispers through the thick forest limbs,_

_It creates a beautiful melody unlike any heard before._

_Combined with the natural sound of an occasional blue jay,_

_And the murmur of a nearby brook,_

_It is a gift from Mother Nature to anyone who hears it._

_Shadows created by the boughs of the protectors create a soothing atmosphere._

_Until another shadow joins their rank, elusive and fleeting._

_It seems to contain inhuman speed,_

_Sinuously weaving in and out of the darkness,_

_Disturbing nothing, just a pair of watchful eyes,_

_As much a perpetual savior as the trees. _

I got up and walked across the wooden floors toward my stereo and moments later, a breath taking Vivaldi piece was playing in my room. I loved this song; it helped me think. I settled on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

I was agitated and couldn't wait to go to the forest the next day. Hopefully I could figure something out if the creature wouldn't show up and try to keep me out. I was like a stubborn child who wouldn't listen to a stern parent. Before I fell asleep, I was pretty grateful that something different happened, besides the sore feet I gained from the Argentine Tango.

((((0))))

Next morning, I put on a pair of shorts and a tank top. I braided my hair which I think is has a chance of behaving as much as the leaning tower of Pisa has of becoming vertical again. It was 5:00 A.M. Perfect. I brought a camera; hopefully, I wouldn't fall today. My ankles and toes were still sore, but I ignored the insignificant fact. I was on a mission.

Make that two missions. In fact, it essentially was another mission; getting past all those watching, wandering members of the household who got up at the crack of dawn for no apparent reason. No reason but me, to be exact. After noticing the vigilant nature of the guards outside of my window, and observing the unusual attentiveness of the maid when she came in to take the laundry, I was more than sure of two things: 1) I had to be much more careful sneaking out this morning, 2) everyone knew about my forest adventure. Well, knew at least the parts where I ran out of the house without the butler acknowledging my leave. I was additionally positive that these inconsequential obstacles wouldn't stop me. I was a rebel against special treatment, exempting chores. It was still on.

Making my way down the stairs unnoticed, I walked toward the kitchen door to get some breakfast to take with me. My hand were outstretched, just about to touch the silver door handle--

Then the fiery French maid who had caught me yesterday stepped swiftly in front of me, pointing towards the dining room. I looked up to find no mercy in her heavily make-up painted face and trudged toward the dining room. Going past the dining room, I walked into another room where the kitchen table was. There was a huge glass iron-wrought table, and an attractive bouquet of purple flowers as a centerpiece. Its beauty was exceptional; the room contained a Spanish vineyard touch, with pale yellow walls. White candles winked in all directions at me, from the circular holders on the wall, to the tables by the patio door. I glared at the candles with a more powerful feeling of hostility and enmity. I sat at the nearest chair, farthest from the cook's kitchen, or galley, as he called it, so that I could take a bite and make a quick escape.

Two maids brought out trays, one filled with croissants and beignets, butter, grape jelly, and café au lait. Another was topped with crêpes and an assortment of fillings, and French bread with Nutella. On top of that, each made brought a satisfied smirk of her choice. I knew why. This was the first time I hadn't had breakfast on the go since July. A usual breakfast for me at a millionaire's manor typically goes like this: sneak in kitchen without cook noticing, grab a plastic bag full of cheerios and get the heck out of there. What all the latest wealthy teens do. Not only was it an act of resisting, but it was quite entertaining too. Living in a mansion with an assortment of people I don't know had its merits. They didn't know me from Eve. But, considering today, they were learning.

The maids went back in the kitchen to bring yet more food but I venomously refused. They clearly showed their disapproval, grumbling or muttering "Humph" but walked back to the galley with argument to tell the cook so that he would stop swelling to the size of an elephant from giddiness. I waited till they left to stuff a crepe with strawberries and whipped cream into my bag. Now to get my coffee.

The galley was a direct opposite of the surgically spotless kitchen table. Something greasy marked the wall opposite of the door, as though someone had hit a frying pan at it. The cook was known in Southern Italy for his unexpected tantrums.

I sauntered into the galley, spying the cook next to the stove, staring forlornly at a magnificent half cooked spring omelet that he probably had started to cook for me. This must have been one of the biggest blows in his life. I was so evil. He sighed, and I promptly walked up to him and bluntly asked if I could have a mocha frappachino. He looked at me as though I were a spoiled child, which I wasn't. From what I knew, this was a moment where my manners, would come in handy. I was clueless when it came to proper etiquette and sympathy. Scorn and mockery I was more familiar with. Well, it's good to try something new.

Taking a deep breath, I said sweetly, "Would you be kind enough to make me the drink?"

The cook quietly made me a mocha frappachino. He gave me a small smile when he handed it to me. I took a sip of the cold coffee. It was perfect, just like the ones they made at Starbucks. I gave an appreciative glance to the cook while I walked out the galley door. I slipped out the patio door, emerging into the pool area. I walked around the enormous pool and headed toward the distant garden. It seemed to the suspicious watchman that I was trying to escape. Even if I was, it was sort of obvious why. Who wouldn't escape a house with enough security guards to watch a prison? Alee always gave me an exasperated look, as though she would love to be held prisoner, just demonstrating to you how mentally unstable my friend could be.

I beamed carelessly, showing my easiness. He seemed satisfied enough by my innocent expression to let me pass into the garden and strolled on, around a corner. I sprinted toward an extravagant statue surrounded by tulips and lilies. I swerved around it, narrowly missing a tempting chance to squash the flower beds. My search for a way out continued like this, bumping into statues and occasionally tripping over little garden gnomes, which my mom kept reminding me, were little stone angels standing two feet tall. I would have to tell the gardener to fix the place up, after all the damage I did. My hair was hot from the blazing heat, scorching the top of my head and I was hungry. It seemed to me like a nightmare, where you go past all those turns in a maze and are about to get somewhere when you are suddenly back where you started. Finally, spotting a crooked petunia bush by an enormous elm, I dashed toward it, and jumped over the bush. I sat crossed-legged on the ground, head resting against the trunk of the stout tree, under the obscuring branches of the colossal elm. I took out my crepe and finished it in one minute. I got up immediately and searched for where I had left off yesterday. I sipped my mocha along the way, uncharacteristically skipping, just to show what caffeine does to me.

I was so lucky that David didn't cut off the forest from the property or let demolishers squash it flat and build a recreational center I would never go to. It extended a couple acres, ending somewhere by the ocean. David said he would search the place when he got back. I found the spot where I had slipped and carefully slid down.

There was another little slope, and then a break, and then a longer one. I didn't realize there were breaks of flat land in between because I had been sliding on my back the last time. Predictably, by the time I got to the bottom, my bright blue adidas shorts were a sickening concoction of brown and green. My shirt wasn't that lucky either. The white singlet was smeared with mud all down my back. I ignored the mud; though I was disgusted. The maids would freak when they saw me come in the house, apparently from the garden, where I supposedly smelled roses and did other sick and sinister activities, like staring at the sky in utter dullness they misinterpreted as ecstasy, or strolling with a parasol in hand. Gag.

I vowed to myself that next time I would get down the slope without a mess. There would be a next time. I brought out the camera, which was thankfully in one piece and started taking pictures of the veiled canopy and the sheltering trees. Everything was a rich dark green, not bright bottle green which would irritate me and not help my thought processes. I sat on the ground, sketching a square of earth. I was fascinated with all the lines and patterns weaved into the crisp, baked soil.

I started to sweat furiously. The trees might keep the sun out, but the heat and humidity filled the forest, like a natural greenhouse. I brought a water bottle, but it was more than half empty. I trekked back though the forest to the entrance I used yesterday. I walked up the stairs, carefully soiling the oriental carpets with every step. I had successfully reached my room without attention. I changed clothes and called my guitar teacher. One the few classes I actually liked, I had lessons every weekend at any time. I used to play piano, but guitar suited me the best. I practiced the guitar while I waited. I wasn't really good. I still messed up when improvising _Malaguena_. My dancing was a bit worse than my guitar playing. I did badly in dancing because I didn't enjoy it as much as guitar.

Making my way for the turret, I walked past the many rooms of the house. It was empty and bleak. I sighed, deciding on hitting the mall and spending some money after guitar. I know shopping didn't improve things but I had to go to a place where I would be surrounded by people or I would go insane.

My guitar teacher, Mr. Roberts, waited patiently for me.

"Hey, Rose. You been practicing?" he said holding a chair out for me. "I could hear you from down the extremely long hallway. You sound pretty good."

"Thank you. I just started before you came, actually. I had a lot of homework this week."

"Well, let's see just how effective your last minute practice is." He said with a smile.

I gulped and started a Led Zeppelin piece. It was difficult in the beginning, but slowly the pattern embedded in my mind and I played the notes without a break.

Mr. Roberts looked at me appraisingly. He was one of the only ones who actually did that. Not to mention called me by my middle name.

"Well done." He said in his bass voice. "You've haven't been putting any effort, but you pick up quickly."

"Thank you, sir" I said, feeling good about myself.

We played a couple more songs together, singing and humming some of the parts. My voice was really low, but couldn't match Mr. Roberts's deep rumble. At the end, we both were tired but unexpectedly happy. He left with a quiet goodbye. The rest of the day passed without anything happening besides me walking on the treadmill, watching TV, and drawing on the computer. I then retired to my bed, only to find out that it was still seven. I organized my room, and then went downstairs. I felt that it was the time and need, to make peace and friendship with my fellow inhabitants. I changed into a sleeveless brown top held up by satin ribbons and long diamond earrings. I added a pair of dark jeans and an off-white lace headband. Looking very elegant and refraining from wearing heels, I walked down the stairs, looking, I hoped, very dignified.

When I finally got at the bottom of the stairs, I looked up to find myself staring into the eyes of a model. With light blond hair, pale skin, and astonishingly tired black eyes that did not match his color, a young man in his mid twenties or possibly early thirties, was looking utterly at ease.

I flushed for no apparent reason. He smiled and commented in an appealing voice,

"Someone called for a doctor. I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen." I was at lost for words.

"You don't look very injured." He continued, trying to fill the gap of miscommunication I was providing.

"Well, I don't know what happened, but you may follow me." I finally said.

After the first word escaped from my mouth, a flash of intuition flashed across the doctor's eyes. I was confused by the action, but led the way.

When we walked in the kitchen everyone gasped, except for the doctor. The scene was almost funny. The place was just as orderly as before. The only difference was the maid was on the floor, moaning in French while the two other maids were calming her down. The cook was ranting about not leaving any onion vinaigrette around. The Butler was standing next to the wall where the phone was, looking tired.

The tension unknotted, however, when his eyes fell upon me and Dr. Cullen. His mouth was open at my appearance, and then smiled slightly and walked toward us.

"Apparently, Yvonne has fallen and will need stitches under her left eye. I'm sorry to call for a doctor on the spot and at the impracticable hour", the butler apologized.

"No need," the doctor swiftly cut in, with a polite smile. I watched in awe as Dr. Cullen calmed the usually tempered maid and completed the four stitches in a mere minute. Finally, the doctor bid us good night and left. I turned toward the rest of the group, who were eyeing my outfit with appreciative and staggered looks, and beamed.

"Who's in for some dinner?" I asked.


	4. Chapter 4

_IV_

"Dinner was great." I told the chef with one hand on the galley door. He beamed. "Thank you so much."

I almost left when—

"Wait. Don't you have anywhere to go? A party or to meet friends? You never go out." He asked.

"I don't really enjoy going out. I'm very anti-social." I explained.

He thought about it, and nodded his head in agreement. I laughed.

"Good Night" I said loudly, trudging up the stairs. I made my way down the hallway to my room and left a daily message on my mom's phone. After changing out of my decent clothes, I yanked off the heavy earrings and rubbed my eyes till the black eyeliner came off. Oddly, it felt kind of nice to dress up. Not every day, as most girls in my class tended to do, but once in a while. I dressed decently enough everyday, exempting the make up and freshly straightened, or as I like to call it "egg fried" hair. I don't what the girls got out of dressing like poodles anyway. Drooling, staring guys wasn't what I'd call a worthy award.

I went in my bathroom and pushed on the window, which opened smoothly with a _snickkk_- like sound. The house was only 2 years old, but I liked the old-fashioned touches they gave to it. The window in my bathroom swung open and was as large as a glass door, almost taking a complete wall of the bathroom for itself. I took a deep breath of fresh air and climbed out onto the sloping roof. I shivered slightly, feeling the cool air travel over my arms and legs. I sat down on the stone-cold roof, savoring the fresh breeze, my eyes overseeing the landscape.

The garden was on the other side of the house, thankfully out of my scope of vision. I imagined the symmetrical touches it contained, too perfect and beautiful, glimmering in the moonlight. The forest caught my eye. I guess it was the wild beauty of it. The mystifying feeling it gave off reminded me of an abandoned fairy haven, frozen in time. The full moon lit the tops of the trees, so that they shone with pure splendor. I actually appreciated the forest for its looks for the first time; usually I admired its usefulness and ability to get me brainstorming. I sighed at the beauty, thanking whatever god there was for the tangled woodland. I then got up and went to bed without a frown or worry.

Sunday went without anything eventful occurring, although I felt as though something was watching my every move. It felt like I had a feather light veil over my head, though I wasn't wearing anything of the sort. On Monday, there was no school, because of a superfluous Teacher's Work Day. I did my yoga, martial arts and guitar without any disapproval from the teachers. I was working hard to focus today. My eyes, however, roved toward the forest.

When it came time to do a Jane Austen book analysis for class and a historical fiction paper, my feet happened to drift off toward the window in my bathroom. As I sat on the marble stone of the huge windowsill, I worked on my papers, comforted, even by afar, that the forest was still there. After I was done with homework, I took out my notebook and pencil. I did a little game of mine. I would close my eyes, and sketch without thinking. Then I would open them, and identify what I did.

I took a deep breath, and drew with the carefree feeling of nothingness. I could feel the direction my pencil moved in, but I had to draw it _taller_. Also, the top should be not short and not long, but that was difficult. I skipped that, and moved on to the middle of the drawing. The lines have to be soft, but straight and hard at the same time, I kept reminding myself. As these thoughts race through my head, I could feel that I was almost done. A smile touched my lips as I could feel that everything was working out fine. Taking another deep breath, and I left my thoughtless dimension. Eyes now open; I looked astonished at what I had drawn.

A white-shirted figure stood tall on the paper. The eyes were intense, even in black and white but not with aggravation. There was a sort of curiosity to them. The smile that traced his white lips ever so slightly was clear evidence of what I had surmised moments before. The figure looked beyond perfect, in a good way. It looked tragic and devastated as well. The curious combination of these traits made it very ethereal and unreal, as though the figure would disappear if I closed the notebook or tore my gaze away. Thinking hard, I started to think about which color to use for the eyes. Then I had a brainwave, more like a senseless, long lost memory that rang with the word. _Gold_. I stopped working right then and shut the notebook breathing hard. Sweat had covered my cheeks, and the bright sun, like a splatter of mushroom-colored paint, made its way around the clouds to mock me.

I blocked his image from my mind; trying to forget the beautiful, sunset-colored eyes, their intensity…NO. I shut my eyes, shaking. I had to stop thinking about him. After the weekend of thinking, albeit thoughts about Edward, I thought I had gotten over my infatuation. That is what usually happened. I felt disappointed; I had had the notion I was finally _immune_ to him. It sounded extremely stupid in my head, and I was slowly feeling that way too. Rage overcame the feelings, and I hot-headedly thought about why did he have such a unbreakable hold on me? Maybe I was just a superficial being, only fond of his physical features. However, I was enjoying these feelings of shallowness just as much as he seemed enjoyed my presence. I calmed down considerably, thinking I wasn't doing anything illegal, anyways, so why should I worry? I opened the sketchbook, to look at my drawing.

It wasn't great, but it depicted the basic sketch of Edward, now looking like a normal drawing, with no intense feelings in the eyes. I defiantly thought that he would never know me, so I could color and draw as many damn pictures as I wanted. I picked a gold pencil and traced the eyes, slowly coloring them in. The colored pencil was more yellow than gold, but close enough. I fixed his hair, which had been the most troubling part, shading it with a dark bronze. His skin was also hard to mimic. I left it as it was the color of sketch paper. The shirt took an ivory, and I shaded the rest of the drawing. I sat back, satisfied. Looking up, I realized that the sun had set; the golden yellow dyeing the paper a lazy flaxen color. The figure's skin seemed to glow under the sun's caring fingers. I looked at the sketch for a long period, then stowed my art pencils in a pouch. I got up, and exited the bathroom. I glanced at the enlarged silver watch on the wall. It read 4:00. I thought about cleaning my room.

That was about when the phone rang. "This is Alex Durraine."

That stopped me for a minute. And a half. I never got phone calls. Especially not from the most popular and superficial boy in the sophomore year. _Oh joy. _I thought sourly as I picked up the phone.

"Hello." I said uncertainly.

"Hey. You remember me, right?"

Uh. Huh. Like all the fawning girls in class would let me forget. I had talked to him a couple times, the last being in freshman year when I had literally outlined the story of A Midsummer's Night to him for a project on Shakespearean themes

"Yep. However, I don't remember giving you my number." I answered lightly.

"Surprised?" he asked.

"Actually, I'm curious. How did you?" I said, now walking slowly around my room, probably looking like a chick flirting on the phone.

"Yeah well…" he trailed off, as though I knew exactly what he was saying.

"Go on."

"Alee told me. Is there a problem?" he questioned not, not sounding as sure as he did before.

Yeah, well, you see, you just called me when there's a better chance of Bush calling me.

"No, of course not." I said, hoping he didn't interpret my off-topic tone as welcoming. I hadn't been surprised as to Alee giving my number. I hadn't given it to many people. Only Alee could have given it. Though she hated most boys, thinking they were not trustworthy, she fell headfirst for the most corrupt of them all.

"Oh good. Some of the sophomores from our class are meeting at the soccer field on Sea Crest. We're going to play some sports and goof around. At the end, we were planning on going somewhere to eat with who ever are left. You wanna come?" his asked.

I grimaced, and then thought about it. Even though this guy couldn't spell, that was no reason not to go.

"Sure, why not?" I said sounding happier than I felt.

He sounded relieved. "Great." Then he paused. "Do you want me to pick you up?" he asked.

"No." I said a little too urgently, as though he were parked in my drive way already. "I can get there myself." I stopped myself, holding my breath.

"Oh. Okay, bye."

"Good Bye." I replied; glad to get off the phone. I didn't think at all to what I had agreed, for then I would have not gone. Picking up an Anne Rice novel, I immersed myself. An hour later, while I went to change into something other than pajamas, I thought about how he had gotten my number.

I gritted my teeth, hoping she would be there so I could happily strangle her to death. When I finally got out of my closet I was wearing a v-neck long sleeve tunic top, with black ribbon holding the loose material together every couple inches on the sleeves. Below that I wore khaki pants and navy converse. My hair I let down, and I left the room without a second glance at the mirror.

When I reached the soccer field it was worse than what I had expected. There was Alex's usual crew, and these girls that were trying to be friends with me at the end of last year, when my mom got married to Daniel. The worst part was they weren't even in the field playing soccer! They just stood there next to one of the guys' car. I decided to get back in the limo, but one person was actually paying attention to their surroundings, unfortunately for me.

"Hey Samara!" I turned unwillingly to find myself looking up at a boy with black eyes. Midnight, I automatically corrected myself, if you looked closely.

"Rem!" I exclaimed in happiness and surprise, quickly hugging him.

Jeremy was practically the only person I talked to besides Alee. He had black-blue hair, a trait from his grandfather. I loved the color; it was so different. He was six inches taller than me, which I resented because I had been taller two years ago.

"This is the last place I'd think to see you." He said seriously.

I laughed. "I could say I used to think better of your own personal judgment."

Before he could answer, high pitched giggling emerged from the small crowd, slow male laughter following.

"So, the Barbies meet the Kens…" I said in an undertone.

Jeremy said dryly, "Not what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting? I felt I had imparted some sanity into you, knowing you were safe somewhere else as long as you had my wisdom." Jeremy smiled widely at that.

Seriously," I said, going on, "How could you come to an Alex Durraine sponsored make-out session?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I was too bored to care. One of the guys there called me for soccer, and this is what happens." He answered shrugging towards the group. Looking back at me, he added slightly smiling, "Though going mad with boredom does seem to have its merits."

"What about you?" he suddenly said, in mock disgust. "My guru, my wise, knowledge imparting sage?"

I sighed, playing along. "Well, honestly, madness compelled me to do so as well. It's entirely your fault anyways." I complained

"How is that, exactly?"

"Hmm, well, I had divulged in you all of my sensible nature and sacred skills to stay alive in this slowly eroding planet, which is being drained of the interest of being one of the learned. Whatever was left, common sense, which I must say, I now reckon I never did have, seemed to have left me, or madness, that seemed to grow ten fold everyday. It's finally won me over and enveloped me in its unbreakable hold."

He looked more amused with every sentence.

"That bit about common sense, I could argue that point. The Mara I knew had common sense."

"That was all genius," I said, pointing to my head. "If I had common sense, I wouldn't hang around you."

"Quite the opposite, I'd think."

"Of course you would."

He suddenly looked slightly sad. "I missed these intelligent sounding conversations which actually had no meaning.

I nodded somberly.

Jeremy had moved to another district, and had to go to another school, though the district was ten minutes from my house. We had barely talked since then.

"I missed you." I said simply.

Jeremy looked sad as well, and answered "As I missed you, Mars."

I smiled slightly, at his use of my childhood nickname hat he had given me. I realized how much of me was gone since 7th grade, when he had left. I had known him for 8 years, and that was hard to forget.

A bit more cheerfully, I said, "I feel my muddled mind clear up; as contradictory as it might sound, I think being close to you makes the ghost of my lost intelligence call to me."

"Well, I believe you did impart something like wisdom. Only now, we are stuck here."

We walked across the field, and I could see in Jeremy's wary expression that he had been just as disgusted with the way things had turned out, like me.

We walked toward the group hesitantly, as though it were a bomb. Closer, I saw with faint disgust that some of the superficial squad had gotten to know each other well enough. Alex was flirting with some golden-haired girl, and two other couples were kissing vigorously. I felt sickened.

"Hey, Samara." Alex said, what seemed to be an awkward tone. I felt confused. He pushed the girl away and walked toward me. _That's sweet…_I walked away, almost. I dearly wished a couple seconds later I did. He slid his arm around me in a hug as a welcome to the shallow crew.

Then held on for a whole five seconds until I said, "Can I breathe again?" Some laughed, though it didn't seem funny to me. Alex looked hurt, but still confident. I wanted to run away. I exchanged greetings with fellow classmates that spent more time in the bathroom than the classroom.

"You look… different." Alex said, unsure of what to call my look. _Oh, yes. This is the current look for fashionistas that go out to play soccer, or at least thought they were going to. _The girl around me looked my clothes with distaste.

"Aren't we going to play soccer or something?" Jeremy finally spoke up.

"Okay, sure, why not?" Alex said.

At what should have happened next, I should have laughed. Or would have, except, I was too bewildered to see that movies actually got some things right.

The couples that had been snogging had finally stopped. The girls all widened their eyes.

"We aren't at all dressed to play anything" a black-haired girl with ridiculous blond highlights said.

For once the prissy girl had said something right. The six-inch heels and too short skirts were definitely restricting. They gave a patronizing look to my outfit and pouted. Though I considered myself an expert at the behavior of the snobby, this was one thing I would probably never understand. As all the girls pouted and the boys looked sympathetic and decided to give then another five minute kiss, Jeremy and I looked stupefied. His dark eyes were open wide in disgust, as were my blue-green ones. Alex was still standing behind the snogging couples, eyeing me. I quickly gave an alarmed look to Jeremy. We picked up the soccer ball and football, running for the field, deciding to not take anymore of the reality.

"What do you want to play?" I asked.

"How about just scoring goals, one-on-one?" He said, looking back, seeing the couples still kissing. I tied my hair back quickly.

"Fine by me." I said shouting across the field.

I kicked the ball, starting the match. Jeremy ran quickly, tangling his legs with mine, expertly maneuvering ways to get the ball, but I kept it within my grasp. With a complicated turn, I kicked the ball hard toward the goal. I was eight feet away, and it was hard for the ball to make it. It almost got there, but Jeremy managed to stop it. He turned it in the opposite direction. I sped toward him and the ball, attempting to get it. He deftly got around me, chuckling slightly. I grinned, taking the opportunity and quickly kicked the ball away, toward my goal. He smiled, playing harder. Sweating raining down my sides, I ran with the ball toward my net, kicking the ball in. Jeremy appraised me with his eyes, though his mouth was open in surprise.

"Got you." I couldn't help say.

He panted and so did I. "That was a great goal." He said between breaths.

"Thanks." I said.

Then, I quickly got the ball and played another round. It was just as hard, but I soon discovered Jeremy's weak points. The score ended at 7-6, in my favor.

"Ha!" I said, a little too full of myself. Jeremy raised an eyebrow, and tackled me, as we had done two years ago.

"You sure about that?" he said, pinning me down.

I breathed hard, concentrating, and didn't answer.

"Oof!" he let out in astonishment.

With a quick shift, I had put my weight on his arms, and turned him over, so that I was the one on top. I smiled at him in triumph. I could see his eyes flash with a determined gleam. Uh oh. I quickly jumped up, and ran, laughing all the while.

"Oh you're not getting away!" he called.

I could feel him gaining speed behind me. I looked ahead of me, aware of Jeremy's footsteps getting closer. I saw Alex, coming across the field, in surprise and all suave, toward me. I paused and almost retched. I felt Jeremy slam into me and then get a hold of me. I let out a note of surprise and relief.

Jeremy hadn't obviously noticed Alex come, so he picked me up and whispered, "Got _you_!" I made a face he didn't see, and then smiled. Laughing, he placed me on the ground moments later, and we both faced a surprised Alex.

"Oh, hey." I said, feeling awkward for a moment, then relaxed. It wasn't like we were the ones making out for 30 minutes.

"Hi. You want to play soccer?" Alex asked me, oblivious to the fact that copious amounts of sweat had been pouring off my sides. Jeremy exchanged looks with me and we almost laughed. I would have, but Jeremy's manners got the best of him.

"Well, I'm sorry. We are quite exhausted." Jeremy quickly looked at me. "At least, I am. Samara is a worthy opponent." He added with a smile. Alex frowned, and looked at me, as though he had been waiting for me to give an answer.

"So am I." I said before Alex got his hopes up.

Looking disappointed, yet not conquered, Alex said, "Let's go somewhere to eat, then."

We ate at a fast food place, where everyone had a burger, fries and soda. All except me and Jeremy, since we disliked the plastic-tasting food that was comprised mainly of fat. Even the brittle-looking girls in the group ate the oily delicacies. Of course, after complaining about how fat they were getting, and how they should cut back. But I guess the comments from the guys that would have made me disgusted made them happy and ready to dig right in.

I was squished next to Alex, and another girl. Jeremy was sitting directly opposite me at the round table that seated twelve. Some of the buys talked with their mouth full, and I kept my eyes down, quietly sipping my frosty without a word. I looked up once, when someone made a joke that I didn't catch, but it seemed hilarious, seeing as one guy choked on his soda, while another spit his food out, laughing. Jeremy was smiling too, though I felt it was because of how uninteresting this meal had started as.

When we got back in the car, I volunteered to drive, just so I could get in the front seat. Though I was fifteen, sixteen this December, I had been driving since I was thirteen. Unfortunately, Jeremy sat in the back, giving an elated-looking Alex a seat next to me. As I drove according to the directions he gave me in a low voice, I wondered why he liked me. Was it my money? I had known him since 4th grade, and he never talked to me. I could have cared less. Why now, though? I could never picture myself with him. Shuddering, I thought something else.

"Are you cold?" Alex suddenly asked. His hand moving toward his jacket, I flashed a hasty smile, and said, "Nah, it was just the ice cream."

"Oh, Ok." He said, talking the moment to stare into my eyes with his dark green ones.

I quickly looked away, having the sensation to throw up my frosty. He murmured my name softly, and I swerved the car, flattening everyone to the right side of the car, including Alex. The girls screeched. Luckily there were no other cars on the road at the moment. "Sorry guys." I stuttered quickly, driving even faster. I hoped that would serve as a warning to Alex. It seemed to, since he looked at my face cautiously, as though I looked like a driving maniac. I tried to make it so.

After, getting home, I went to my room, and told Alee, all about it. After my slightly irritable questioning, she told me that she hadn't given my number to Alex, which was strange, since she was the only one who knew it. After a dance and quick photography lesson, I was tumbling into bed.


End file.
